


oh what beauty to know, i still have so much more becoming

by buck_y_bucks



Series: this hand brings new life [3]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Captain America - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Domestic Fluff, Emotional Baggage, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Endgame fix it, Feminine James "Bucky" Barnes, Feminine!Bucky, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mild Smut, Porn With Plot, Porn with Feelings, Post-Endgame, Slice of Life, Wakanda (Marvel), amputee!Bucky, bucky wears panties
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2020-04-24
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:46:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,719
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23827828
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/buck_y_bucks/pseuds/buck_y_bucks
Summary: The porch light flips on very suddenly.“Steve?” Bucky whispers softly, keeping the bulk of his body hidden behind the patio door. His eyes slide wearily to the #1 BOYFRIEND mug Steve’s ready to pitch at him. He doesn't seem frightened, just sleepy and unamused. “Steve it’s three in the morning.”Steve relaxes with an exhale, hunching back onto his step. He discards the mug, letting his head fall into his hands. “I’m sorry, Buck. Go back to bed.” The yard is illuminated by the porch light now, and Steve can see the shape of the barn and the chicken coop in the distance.Bucky doesn’t go back to bed. He pads across the patio, vulnerable in his bare feet and short nightgown, and wiggles right into Steve’s lap. For a second Steve has to rearrange, awkwardly holding onto Bucky as he settles. Bucky is easy to look at, like this. His eyes are closed, head tipped neatly against Steve’s shoulder to reveal the unblemished column of his throat. His nightie is a soft pink number, decorated with roses. For a long time, Steve just holds Bucky, staring into the darkness. It seems farther away, with the light at his back and Bucky against his chest.
Relationships: James "Bucky" Barnes & Steve Rogers, James "Bucky" Barnes/Steve Rogers
Series: this hand brings new life [3]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1703542
Comments: 6
Kudos: 118





	oh what beauty to know, i still have so much more becoming

**Author's Note:**

> “They grin at each other, constellations of heat growing between them, and for a moment I let myself dream one thousand posibilities, my bones singing their lavender hymns. Oh what beauty to know, I still have so much more becoming.” - Keaton St. James

_ what beauty to know, I still have so much more becoming _

A quiet morning finds Steve awake long before the sunrise. He’s sitting on the lowest step of the patio, sipping black coffee from the #1 BOYFRIEND mug Bucky had bought him on their last trip into town. Steve feels  _ restless.  _ Six weeks of domestic bliss hadn’t shaken free the monster inside of him that lives for the next mission, the next battle, the next  _ war.  _ The farm is quiet and dark with no bright street lights or noisy neighbors for miles. Steve half waits for the inevitable explosion and his knuckles are white where they clutch the mug.

He’s awake… yet he’s having a nightmare. 

The porch light flips on suddenly and Steve startles from his half-wakefulness. He can’t help but whirl around, coffee sloshing from his nearly empty mug. He’s bracing it almost like he’s ready to use it as a weapon when Bucky opens the back door. His long hair is neatly pleated, eyes still droopy from sleep. 

“Steve?” Bucky whispers softly, keeping the bulk of his body hidden behind the door. His eyes slide wearily to the mug Steve’s ready to pitch. He doesn't seem frightened, just sleepy and unamused. “Steve it’s three in the morning.” 

Steve relaxes with an exhale, hunching back onto his step. He discards the mug, letting his head fall into his hands. “I’m sorry, Buck. Go back to bed.” The yard is illuminated by the porch light now, and Steve can see the shape of the barn and the chicken coop in the distance.

Bucky doesn’t go back to bed. He pads across the patio, vulnerable in his bare feet and short nightgown, and wiggles right into Steve’s lap. For a second Steve has to rearrange, awkwardly holding onto Bucky as he settles. Bucky is easy to look at, like this. His eyes are closed, head tipped neatly against Steve’s shoulder to reveal the unblemished column of his throat. His nightie is a soft pink number, decorated with roses. For a long time, Steve just holds Bucky, staring into the darkness. It seems farther away, with the light at his back and Bucky against his chest.

“Are you asleep?” Steve finally whispers. His lips brush Bucky’s soft brown hair, smelling the pleasant strawberry of his shampoo.

Bucky blinks up at him, eyes opening almost owlishly. His hand comes up to rest against Steve’s neck, absently brushing his ring against the sensitive skin there. “How can I sleep when you’re hurting?”

Another swipe of his hand, “ _ And _ you were going to kill me on my own front porch with the mug  _ I _ got  _ you _ .”

Steve huffs a laugh. 

They sit together for another minute or two before Bucky is climbing out of Steve’s lap. He holds his hand out for Steve, smiling in the way that makes Steve feel like goo. “Can we go back to bed, Steve?” 

“Yeah,” Steve says, reaching out to hold Bucky’s hand, “Yeah.” Steve lets Bucky lead him back to their bed. He watches as Bucky rolls the covers back, sliding in before holding his open arm out in invitation to Steve. Steve crawls into bed, letting Bucky’s arm anchor him to the bed. He’s lulled into a tentative sleep by the rhythm of Bucky’s breathing. The last thing Steve sees before he falls asleep- the image he takes with him to his dreams- is Bucky, wide awake as he protects Steve through the night. 

Bucky rises alongside the sun, easily washing the sleepless night away. With only the dim light from outside, Bucky dresses hastily in a simple gray frock. The rest of his morning passes as it used to, in the time before Steve came home to him. He stands in the kitchen to drink his tea, eating a hard-boiled egg and sliced avocado. When he's full, he grabs his metal pail off the hook beside the back door and collects the day's eggs from the chicken coop. All of the chickens squawk in greeting and the rooster crows, loud and proud. Bucky laughs as he shushes the rooster, thinking of Steve’s sleeping body in their bed. He tosses them a few handfuls of grain and refreshes their water. 

It’s quiet without Steve crashing along behind him, filling up all the empty space with his chatter. 

Marilyn, their Sable goat, looks happy to see Bucky. Bucky lavishes her with treats, petting the swollen expanse of her pregnant belly. The babies would come any time now. Bucky doesn’t milk her, she’s out of her freshening stage, but he does comfortingly rub his hands along her udder. 

Marilyn shifts, laying heavily on her side. She bleats loudly. Bucky rubs his hand up her flank again. She bleats a second time, seemingly mollified as he offers her another treat. He cleans up the hay, sprinkling a fresh layer from the small bale in the corner of the barn. Marilyn languidly chews on some hay as she noses it into a bed for herself. 

Soon Bucky would call the town’s vet and together, they’d bring new life into this world. The thought stirs something deep inside of Bucky- a long-hidden secret. He thinks of their house, the spare bedroom he and Steve could convert into a nursery. He leaves the barn but keeps the door open to encourage Marilyn to roam for exercise. 

She doesn’t. Bucky cheerfully tells her: “I’ll see you soon!” She neighs in contempt at the idea.

The house is still dark, so Bucky slides quietly inside. He feels like a trespasser, tiptoeing silently through his own living room and into his kitchen. He notices now that the coffee pot is still on, red light blinking a reminder of his long night. Bucky clicks it off and the low humming quiets. 

Everything sits totally still. Their home is safe. Steve is just around the corner, sleeping in.

Quietly, oh so quietly, Bucky starts putting together a cinnamon date loaf. It would be an easy breakfast for a sleepy soldier with a sweet tooth. He’s buttering the pan when the bedroom door clicks open, a ruffled Steve emerging. He looks a little worn around the edges, hair muffled and shirt wrinkled from rest. 

“Good morning,” Bucky tells him, smiling in that gentle way of his, “Did you sleep well?”

Steve presses a hand against the kitchen door frame, leaning in. His small frown is all-knowing. “Because you kept watch.” 

Bucky pauses, but it’s only a moment. He covers his surprise by deftly reaching for the batter. He thinks about lying to Steve. He shrugs his shoulder instead. “It was worth it.” 

Steve smiles despite himself, watching Bucky slide the pan into the warm oven. He wants to be angry but he isn't. They’d had this argument before. They didn’t need to have it again.

Bucky and Steve were a  _ team _ \- and sometimes that meant they traded sleepless nights. Steve eats up the distance between him and Bucky in two steps, pulling him into a chaste kiss. His breath is still sour from last night’s coffee and Bucky laughingly pushes him away, nose wrinkling affectionately. 

Steve grins dopily at him, blue eyes warm and blond hair mussed from sleep. “Why’d you push me away?” 

“Because your breath stinks!” This time Steve laughs, kissing Bucky again despite the protests. “Steve!” Bucky all but fake-cries, pretending to struggle out of Steve’s loose hold. 

“Fine, fine.” Steve concedes, dropping his arms from Bucky’s waist and waving his palms in a petulant surrender. “I’ll go shower.”

The shower water is warm and Bucky has the spray set to gentle rainfall. Steve lathers efficiently, rinsing, and washing quickly so he can return to his breakfast with Bucky. Steve brushes his teeth without finesse, already stepping into a pair of khaki trousers. When he gets back to the kitchen Bucky offers him a slice of sweet loaf smothered in butter. 

Steve is putty again. “You’re a dream, doll. An absolute dream.” When Bucky sets the cup of coffee next to him, Steve practically moans. It’s the perfect shade, cooled by the cream from the icebox. Cream and butter- the opulence makes him dizzy. He feels like he’s back in the 1930s, sitting at their rickety kitchen table as Bucky scoops his serving of potatoes onto Steve’s plate.

Bucky catches Steve’s dazed expression. “If you don’t like it I can scramble some e-”

“No!” Steve interjects, “No. It’s delicious. I was just… I was just thinking about how we could’ve never imagined.” He waves his hand in an all-encompassing gesture, eyes doleful as he looks across the counter at Bucky. Bucky laughs out loud. He knows what Steve means- he knows  _ exactly  _ what Steve means. But they’re sitting in the kitchen of their Wakandan farmhouse, surrounded by 21st-century tech, Bucky has one arm and Steve is  _ Captain America.  _ Of course, they couldn’t imagine. They were living a truly unimaginable life. 

Bucky doles up another slice every time Steve’s plate empties. Steve eats until he’s contentedly chewed his way through half the loaf. He’s finishing the last of his coffee when Bucky suddenly says, 

“You need a project.”

Steve frowns over the rim of his mug. “A project?”

“Yes, a project.” Bucky finally turns around, dish towel knotted in his hands, “You’re restless. You’re bored here.”

Steve starts but doesn’t flinch. “I’m not bored.” He sets the now empty mug on the counter, tone neutral. The caffeine doesn’t affect him, but completing the ritual has left him feeling more awake. The warm food and easy sunshine settle him, but the topic of conversation is making him uneasy. 

“You’re bored.” Bucky insists. His voice cracks and he quickly turns away from Steve. His cheeks are red, color creeping down his neck. “This came easier to me. This domestic shit. I should’ve realized it’d be different for you. Harder.” Bucky shrugs and Steve thinks of that monster inside of him, desperate for conflict. 

“No,” Steve says, “It’s not like that, Bucky. I…” His hands flex on the counter and he looks pointedly out the window. Bucky watches the clench of Steve’s jaw as he grinds his teeth.

“I don't know who I am when I'm not fighting.”

Bucky sits with Steve’s confession for a moment, turning it over and over. Then he pads forward, taking Steve’s hand into his own across the counter. “It doesn’t just go away, Stevie.” He lifts Steve’s hand so he can press Steve’s knuckles against his lip. There’s a sorely won confidence in his shoulders. “You have to put in a lot of work to get better. I did a lot of work here, for us. But now... Now you have to put the work in for yourself. Figure out who you are. What you like.” Bucky smiles, real soft, eyes bright like Steve’s the one turning the porch light for  _ him.  _ “I started from scratch, pal. You don't have to. We can figure this Steve out together.” 

“Okay.” Steve closes his other hand atop Buckys. The monster inside of Steve has quieted under Bucky’s earnest gaze. “Okay, yeah. A project.”

“I may already have one in mind.”

That’s how (much to Bucky’s delight) Steve ends up looking like the spread of a dirty magazine in their backyard. He’s stripped down to his trousers and boots, shining with sweat. Marilyn the goat grazes lazily in the tall grass beside him. Steve’s eyes wander occasionally to the kitchen window, where he finds Bucky’s nose practically pressed against the glass. By midday, Steve’s got the wooden shell of the greenhouse constructed. It feels good to stand back, the heavy sun hitting his shoulders as he admires the fruits of his labor. He had  _ created  _ this- for  _ Bucky. _

As if sensing he’s on Steve's mind, Bucky throws open the back door and hollers: “It looks great!” A wide grin splits his face, a pink patterned apron tied tightly behind him. Steve fills with pride, chest swelling at the compliments. Bucky looks like Steve’s catholic vision, dressed in his long skirt and neatly plaited hair. The beautiful wife of a Brooklyn boy's daydreams.“Lunch is ready,” His voice is pleasant, “So hurry in!”

Steve pretends to cock his head, pondering the idea. “Hurry in? Why should I  _ hurry _ in?”

Bucky wipes his palms on his apron, giggling as he peers around the door at Steve. He likes it when he and Steve play these little games. “Maybe I have a surprise for you..” 

Steve laughs, bounding up the porch steps. The air of the house is cool, chilling Steve’s sweat on his skin. Bucky feigns a scream, waiting for Steve to be just out of reach before he ducks away from the door as he dashes down the hall. Steve turns, launching himself towards Bucky. He connects, arms wrapping around Bucky’s waist and tucking him close as they skid across the carpet. Bucky is shaking with laughter, squirming in Steve’s arms as they tussle, both fighting to end up on top. Finally, Steve corrals him, pinning Bucky’s hand loosely above his head. 

Steve pants, smiling at the naked way Bucky stares at his chest. 

“My surprise?”

“Surprise.” Bucks says, lurching upward to kiss him with fervor. Steve runs his warm palm along Bucky’s strong thigh, feeling the muscles tensing and relaxing underneath his consistent stroke. He rucks up Bucky’s dress and apron so he can get at more skin and the sight of Bucky stretched across the carpet with his skirt around his waist has a groan vibrating deeply in Steve’s chest. Bucky’s wearing a pair of pink panties, the tulle-like fabric cradling Bucky’s swollen cock. 

“God.” Steve tips his head back, trying to slow the throb in his dick with heavy breaths. He refused to cum in his pants when Bucky was laying there so sweet, giving it all so freely. “God. The panties. You’re gonna kill me.” 

They kiss again, Steve keeping Bucky under his thumb with the rhythmic strokes of his palm going  _ up up up.  _ It’s hot, it’s  _ so  _ hot, and Steve can’t help but run his fingers along the lace edges of the sheer panties. Bucky pants into his mouth, eager to be touched. 

“Please,” Bucky whispers, eyes glazing. Steve kisses a bruising trail down Bucky’s neck, suckling hard at his collarbones. Bucky’s writhing has Steve’s cock hardening angrily in his khakis, so he rubs it against Bucky’s thigh. The friction has Steve tossing his head back. Bucky’s hand shoves lightly at Steve’s chest. “Get up, Steve.”

Steve scrambles to his feet, ready to carry Bucky to their bedroom. But Bucky has a different idea, looping a finger in the loop of Steve’s belt as he mouths at Steve’s clothed cock. Steve exhales harshly through clenched teeth, hands coming to pet Bucky’s hair as Bucky slowly works his fly open. 

His cock is flushed and standing at attention, the tip dusky red and shining in the light. Bucky doesn’t pause, leaning in to lick greedily at the head. Steve’s hand tightened in his hair, the pressure encouraging Bucky to bob with a purpose.

“Uh-“ Steve starts, mouth stuttering husky noises, “Uh uh uh uh. God. God.” When Bucky licks a fat stripe on the underside of his cock it’s  _ too much,  _ heat spearing his belly as he practically wails. “Sweet girl, sweet girl, uh uh.”

It’s only two minutes later that Steve cums, hunching over Bucky as he gasps loudly. Bucky suckles him sweetly, swallowing despite the twitch of his jaw. Steve’s knees knock together as he rides through his orgasm, Bucky’s mouth continuing its soft exploration of Steve’s strong thighs. “Buck…” Steve whispers, the touch rubbing him raw. Bucky looks up, hand resting palm up in his lap. His Adam's apple bobs as his thighs fall open, revealing the large wet spot on the front of his apron. His face is a brilliant red.

Steve’s dick jumps, spitting a sad glob of cum. His mind whirrs as he realizes that Bucky’s cum. Bucky’s cum just from  _ sucking him off.  _ The sight of Bucky’s disheveled hair and cum stained dress have Steve hurtling back towards arousal. Bucky must notice his renewed excitement stirring because he laughs, grabbing Steve’s forearm to help himself up.

“I’ll let you fuck me when the greenhouse is finished.”

Steve all but runs back to his project. 

**Author's Note:**

> Grammarly is my beta. Find me on Tumblr at buck_y_bucks  
> Comment anything you'd like to see from our beautiful, soft Bucky and strong, healing Steve


End file.
